


Smoke and Mirrors

by SharpestKnife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Biting, Clothed Sex, Dirty Talk, Guilt, Humiliation, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Games, Pre-A Game of Thrones, Pre-Canon, Religious Guilt, Sexual Frustration, Shame, Taboo, Teasing, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestKnife/pseuds/SharpestKnife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sees his reflection, not in water, nor polished metal, but in the eyes of his sister's firstborn son.</p><p>Chapter 3: The King in the North arouses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmure's sleep was filled with unfamiliar, but not unpleasant dreams. He liked the boy, and that's all it was, but he hadn't expected to wake still thinking of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to [Rovardotter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovardotter), whose valuable input, support and beta reading was crucial to the creation of this lunacy. May your dreams be filled with red and blue banners, and debauchery everlasting.

White and grey banners fluttered above the throng of men and horses that approached the ancient walls of Riverrun. Edmure Tully felt like a boy again, rocking on his heels as he strained his neck in search of his sister.

He beamed when he found her at last, knowing only that it had been far too long since they had last met, something he could see in the little lines that had etched deeper in her face. But when she found him among the crowd gathered outside the castle, she smiled as she did when they were children, and it was like Catelyn Tully had never left at all.

She stepped off her mount, and try as he might, Edmure couldn't help running straight into her outstretched arms. "Cat," he breathed, pulling her into a hug. _Sod the courtesies_ , he thought, holding her tight.

Catelyn's hands splayed over the breadth of his shoulders. "It's good to see you again, little brother." 

She pulled gently away from his embrace, and Edmure felt a little foolish, his hands groping around thin air. He reminded himself that there was no shame in wanting to show his affection. This was Cat, after all. "Have you come alone?"

Catelyn waved a hand wearily at her retinue, but she smiled. "As if Ned would ever allow it. But if you mean my children, then no. My eldest did come along. I apologize that this was all so sudden."

Edmure tutted fondly. "There's room enough for every Stark in Riverrun, you know that." He followed her gaze. "Robb, was it?" He realized with some guilt how little he remembered of his nephew, only that they shared the coloring so common to the Tully line.

A boy stumbled from the assemblage, smiling first at Catelyn, then at Edmure. He held back a gasp as he saw just how much Tully blood was in his nephew. Auburn locks, blue eyes, and, like Edmure, a still-growing broadness to his body. Looking at Robb was like gazing into a mirror from the past.

Catelyn's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Strange, isn't it? Shave off that thicket around your chin and you could be brothers."

"We could," Edmure said. Robb approached them at last, reaching out a hand to greet his uncle. The shock on his face was evident when Edmure tugged him into an embrace. When they parted, Edmure held him by the shoulders to look more closely. Handsome, certainly, as would befit a Tully, with wild hair, brilliant eyes and a pretty mouth. He tried to remember whether he looked as much as Robb at his age.

"It's like looking into my future," Robb said, and only then did Edmure notice that the boy was also staring, studying him. Robb sputtered an apology and hurriedly looked away. 

Catelyn laughed first, and Edmure joined in. "Then at least we know that you'll be handsome," he said. Robb flushed.

"He already is," Catelyn said, stroking her son's hair. "But time enough to tease your nephew later. I'd like to see Father. Come, Robb."

The boy followed his mother, casting a last lingering glance at his uncle. _A mirror_ , Edmure thought. He paced after them as they headed to the audience chamber, already brimming with curiosity at the sight of his nephew.

*******

Edmure was glad to see his lord father looking more sprightly than he had in a long time, and all it took was the sight of his little Cat. The Starks were weary from their journey, but it wasn't enough to prevent a gathering in the Great Hall that same evening. There they dined as joined Houses, with Catelyn and Robb as honored guests.

He liked the boy well enough. It took little time to learn that they shared more beyond their colors. He liked that Robb could laugh, that he either didn't think much of his future role as Lord of Winterfell, or had simply grown skilled at hiding it. He liked that Robb knew where he was headed in life, and there was less of the haughtiness that Edmure might have expected from a boy his age. Robb told him about his interest in arms as well, something that anyone could have easily guessed from the hardening lines of the boy's body. And he had to admit, he did like the boy's body. He liked the growing slope of his shoulders, the thickening in his arms, but most of all, he liked the boy's mouth. He wondered whether it had ever met a girl's lips before, and Edmure nearly choked on his wine when he found himself wondering how the boy's lips might feel pressed against his.

Edmure shook his head, his eyes flitting to check if Robb had seen him stare. He had never paid much mind to other men, or other boys, even in youth, though he was humble enough to admit when another man might rightly be considered handsome. More importantly, handsomer than him. The sudden and unexpected tendency for his eyes to disobediently swivel to Robb's mouth, or his chest, or his hands, was quickly becoming bothersome, and Edmure knew that this was a larger problem precisely because the boy also happened to be his nephew.

He swallowed more wine in an attempt to wash away whatever it was that his mind had concocted. With some amusement, he began to notice his nephew's own furtive little glances, something he found more flattering than annoying. Perhaps the boy was fascinated by their similarities, interested enough that Edmure caught him gawking on more than one occasion. Robb would stare over the rim of his cup in between sips, or watch through his lashes as he chewed. Edmure thought it a game, returning the boy's looks with generous smiles and restraining his laughter when Robb would quickly turn away with a blush.

He thought nothing more of their entertaining exchanges, though Edmure's sleep was filled with unfamiliar, but not unpleasant dreams. He liked the boy, and that's all it was, but he hadn't expected to wake still thinking of his mouth.

*******

Edmure had risen early the following day, settling affairs as commanded by his lord father, and past noon was returning to his chambers for some respite when he noticed his nephew loitering by the window just outside his door. Robb was leaning against the ledge, his stare distant and searching, and Edmure wondered why the boy had chosen to linger so close to his own bedchambers. He placed a hand on Robb's shoulder in greeting, and he jerked in surprise, as if shaken out of deep thought. He turned to Edmure and smiled weakly. Something was bothering Robb, he could tell.

"Everything all right, Robb? Does Riverrun suit you?"

"Fine. All is fine," the boy said.

"Good to know." _Why is he here?_ he wondered, even as his body ached for sleep. He cocked his head at Robb, waiting for him to speak. Met with silence, he nodded and made to turn for the door. "If there's nothing else, I'll be heading to my chambers to…"

"Question," Robb blurted out. "I have a question." The words came out in a fit of panic, and he kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

"Then ask," Edmure said. "But please make it quick, Robb. It's been a long morning."

Robb bit on his lip, unsure. _Gods_ , Edmure thought. _I wish you would stop doing that_. He forced himself to look at his nephew's eyes. "Robb?"

The boy lifted his head, face wrought with worry, before he spoke, very softly. "Is it true that you're a lecher?"

Edmure flinched. "Hurtful words, and no way to speak to your uncle."

"Mother said so," Robb said, his eyes darting away. "Not to me. I heard her talking about you."

"Then it's no way for her to speak _about_ your uncle."

"Is it true?" Robb asked again.

"Why should it matter to you?" Edmure heard the impertinence in his own voice.

Robb swiped at a curl that hung low on his brow. "There are things I would ask you. Private things."

 _Gods_ , Edmure thought. _Gods help me_. This wasn't right. Was Robb coming to him for advice, or something besides? He looked innocent enough, that much was sure, and perhaps the boy only wanted to learn more about things between women and men.

"Why have you come to me?"

Robb chewed on his lip. _Stop that_. "Anyone else would poke fun at me."

Edmure crossed his arms and held back a playful smile. "And what makes you think that I won't?" He stepped closer and the boy scuffled away nervously. "What makes you think I won't tell your mother?"

The boy reddened, and he fiddled with the edge of his shirt. "You wouldn't," he said, his voice steady and filled with certainty. "I like you. Trust you."

 _You barely know me_ , Edmure thought. He felt guilty for teasing, and something fluttered in his belly. Perhaps it was fondness, or affection. He told himself that it was definitely not desire. He would gladly talk to the boy, explain to him, but they certainly couldn't speak of these things right there in the hall.

But Edmure was tired. The sun was high, and though he liked the warmth, it sapped what little strength he had left after the morning's exertions. He liked the boy, that much was true. He liked the boy even more now, but not enough that he would trade him for the comfort of his bed.

He spoke kindly, careful not to hurt. "Talking would take some time, I think. I really am tired, Robb. Perhaps later?"

The boy just stared at the ground. _He's not moving_. Edmure sighed. He was exhausted, but it didn't look like Robb would leave willingly. _Best to get this over with_ , he thought. _Then I can sleep_. He longed for his bed, the feel of the covers slipping under his bare skin, and he tried hard not to think of what else he might like to have underneath him.

Robb still hadn't budged, and Edmure decided he would have to take matters into his own hands. He grabbed him by the scruff, pulling even as the boy lord protested, and nearly tossed him into his bedchambers. Robb scrambled to gain his footing. Edmure shut the door, not bothering to slide the bolt. _We're only talking_ , he thought. _Nothing more._

It was only then that Edmure noticed how much Robb was sweating. No, not sweating, sweltering. Absolutely dripping. _A child of the north_ , he thought. Robb saw the stare and he looked away, shifting in his clothes, fingers tugging uncertainly at the loose opening of his shirt. There was muscle there, Edmure could see, and he watched a solitary bead of sweat trickle into the furrow in Robb's chest. It worried him that he should have found it fascinating, attractive.

"Gods, Robb, just take off your shirt if the heat is getting to you." Edmure struggled to keep the horror out of his face when he heard the honey he had unknowingly dripped into his voice.

Robb's cheeks flushed red. "No," he said, clearly abashed. "Won't."

 _I want to see you_ , Edmure thought, indignant. He was used to getting what he wanted, often by whispering pretty words, and it gnawed at him how this boy, of all people, might think to deny him. But that anxiety, the way Robb's hands wrung into each other, how his face was drawn with distress, was something Edmure found strangely endearing.

"Fine." He took Robb by the shoulder and ushered him further into the room, down onto a stool by his bed, doing his best to ignore the ferocious heat rising from his nephew's body, to ignore how it made it him think of things he would rather not think on at all.

He poured a cup of water, nodding as he offered it to the boy. Robb accepted and drank eagerly, and something about his thirst, the way his throat bobbed and surged as he swallowed, tickled at hidden cravings that Edmure never knew he had. Robb's tongue, pink and wet, swept over his lips as he set down the cup.

 _I wish you would stop doing things with your mouth_ , Edmure thought. _I wish I knew well enough not to look_. A part of him knew that admiring his nephew couldn't be wrong, as long as he didn't touch him. _We're only talking. Nothing more._

Robb settled sullenly onto the stool, and Edmure sat to face him. It seemed to him that this was how a father might talk to his son about certain delicate matters, though Edmure could never remember such a thing between him and Lord Hoster. He and Robb were similar enough of face and build that he felt more comfortable imagining him not as a son, or a nephew, but as something more like his littlest brother.

"Now, about these private things." He clasped his hands together and gave Robb the sort of dour expression he imagined an older brother would wear. "Your mother tells me that you've grown close to the Greyjoy boy. Is he the one putting these funny thoughts into your head?"

Robb looked away, embarrassed, and nodded.

"It's very simple," Edmure said. "Your cock goes in her cunt, and you move around a little. If you're very lucky, she'll let you put it in her mouth."

"I know all that," Robb said, pouting. The boy was blushing his hardest now. "It's the bottom I'm worried about."

Edmure arched an eyebrow.

"Theon," Robb continued. "He told me about things that men do together." He coughed to clear his throat. "How a man might take another man as he would a woman."

Edmure nodded. "Buggery," he said, and he chuckled as Robb's ears turned crimson. He realized the meaning behind the question and frowned. "Do you like men, Robb?"

"No!" the boy said hotly. "I like girls. Mostly. But there is one man."

 _Who?_ Edmure wondered. He fought to keep his curiosity hidden and promised to wrench an answer out of him later.

Robb's eyes were on the ground and his fingers twined madly as he fidgeted. "Uncle… Do you hate me for it?"

Edmure realized that he would have to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to wound the boy, and something about the way he blushed like a maiden, his nervous fluttering, made Edmure want to comfort him, touch him. _Teach_ him. Robb was a helpless wolf cub, here, cornered in the confines of his bedchambers, but Edmure wanted to tease him, just a little.

He leveled Robb with a stern look, bristling as the boy visibly squirmed. "You are the heir to Winterfell, Robb. You'll be expected to marry some day." He watched as the boy's head hung lower. "To a woman. The laws are clear. You won't be giving your cloak to a man." Edmure felt something twitch in his chest when he heard Robb give the smallest whimper of despair.

He let the judgment hang in the air for a moment longer, to watch his nephew flail a little more, before continuing. "But men do have these urges sometimes. Most won't admit it, but some might act on them out of curiosity." He reached over to muss his hair, drawn to the wet tangle of sweat and auburn, and the boy sighed. "It isn't wrong to try different things, Robb. I don't hate you for it."

Robb raised his eyes at last. Edmure couldn't turn away from the crisp blue of them, moist as if they were always on the verge of tearing, and presently swelling with what looked like gratitude.

"Uncle," Robb said. "Have you ever? With a man."

Edmure's laughter boomed around the chamber. Wood scraped on stone as he drew his stool closer, and he was unsure of how his knee had managed to find its way into the space between Robb's legs. He was surprised when he didn't find himself at all caring that they were nearly touching. The boy didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he didn't mind.

"I've always preferred the company of women myself. I've thought about it, once or twice, never did anything. There weren't many chances anyway, no one I liked enough." Edmure paused to think, then leaned closer, his fingers steepled. "You, on the other hand. Greyjoy's a good-looking boy. And then there's your half-brother, the bastard. What was his name?"

Robb flushed, and Edmure watched the lump in his throat slide as he swallowed. "Jon," he said.

"Yes, that one. Handsome lads, both of them." Edmure frowned. "But one is your closest friend, Robb, and the other your brother. Which one were you planning to bugger?"

Silence, and more reddening crept through Robb's sweat-slicked skin. _Certainly not both!_ Edmure pushed his stool even closer, only then noticing how his knee was now thrust into Robb's crotch. It was jarring, to say the least, as Robb's cock was certainly very, very hard.

Edmure gasped, and Robb froze. The boy's body was taut, tense, a fine match for the swelling hardness that pushed against Edmure's leg. _Ignore it. Pull your leg back. Stop this._ His mind was whispering little warnings, but he realized he couldn't, wouldn't pull away.

"Tell me," he said. "Whoever it is that you're planning to do this with. Are you meant to be the man or the woman?"

Robb's lashes fluttered. "What do you mean?"

 _You know very well what I mean_. Irritation washed through Edmure, mixed with some affection for the boy's awkward innocence. He raised his eyebrows and spoke carefully. "Do you intend to give or receive?"

The furious rush of blood into Robb's face was answer enough.

Beyond his permission, Edmure's knee ground further into Robb's breeches. The boy shuddered, and still there was no acknowledgment of the horrific, sinful, yet entirely thrilling exchange that went on between their bodies. _Of course,_ Edmure thought. _Let's pretend your cock isn't pounding against me. And let's pretend that this, and your sweat, and your snuffling, and your pretty fucking mouth aren't getting me hard as well._ Edmure looked at the boy — his nephew, _gods_ — and knew he couldn't fight the blood rushing to his hips.

"It will hurt."

"How would you know?" There was defiance in Robb's tone. 

Edmure pushed further, and a voice screamed madly inside his head as his hand crept its way up Robb's thigh. _A Stark in name, but a Tully in blood!_ it shrieked. _A Tully, and your nephew, Cat's firstborn, your own blood,_ and Edmure tightened his grip over Robb's flesh as if it might help to quell the warnings clanging through his mind. 

"You think I haven't done it to women?" Edmure hissed.

Robb pushed against him, his hardness threatening the cloth between them, and his eyes were now fixed firmly on Edmure's lap. His shirt clung to his body with the dampness of sweat, outlining the curves of new muscle, his red mouth loose and wet. 

"Show me," he whispered. Robb leaned in closer, his breath hot on Edmure's cheek, the smell of him sharp and unsettling. He whispered again. "Uncle, show me."

Reason fled Edmure's mind as Robb nuzzled against him, the boy's sweat slick against his face. Robb rocked slowly into him, whimpering softly. Edmure's hand trailed further up Robb's thigh, and Riverrun melted away from around them. Edmure watched as his nephew trembled under his hand, shuddering as his fingers crept ever closer to his hardness. He sipped in the dizzying warmth of Robb's body, the scent of salt, sweat and wood. He heard birdsong, and footsteps, then the creaking of his chamber door.

"Edmure," said a woman's voice. "Have you seen Robb? I can't find him anywhere."

 _Cat._ They sprang apart, Robb dragging his stool away, and Edmure's nearly toppling to the floor as he stood. He tugged on his shirt, making sure that it covered his hardness, just as his sister crossed the dozen or so steps from the door to his bed. Catelyn stood there, for a moment, her eyes flitting suspiciously between Edmure and the miserable, beet-red heap of sweating boy that was her son. She sighed.

"I don't know what stories you're filling Robb's head with, Edmure, but I won't have you corrupting him with bawdy japes and tales of your conquests."

Edmure rolled his eyes. "Cat, we were just talking." _Of course we were._

"He's just a boy!" She turned to Robb and he cowed under her gaze. "Honestly, I take you out of Theon Greyjoy's hands and deliver you right into the jaws of something far worse. No more stories!"

Robb sputtered. "I need a bath." He bolted off, leaving Edmure at the mercy of his lady mother.

"We were just talking, Cat," he repeated. _We weren't touching,_ his mind whispered, setting off a litany of silent denials. _Our lips weren't about to meet. My hand wasn't about to reach for his cock. I wasn't about to ravage your son. My nephew._

She cocked an eyebrow. "About what?"

Edmure coughed. "The weather, of course. How hot it is here. You're used to it, must miss it so. Better than hot water in the walls, eh?" He grinned. "But the boy is still a Stark. He'll be nothing but a puddle by the time you head home."

Catelyn smiled at last, and Edmure allowed himself to relax. "I really hadn't considered it before we came," she said. "Robb is certainly more suited for the cold, but I do want him to know where half of him came from. I wish I could have brought the others, but Ned wouldn't let me take them. You should have seen how Sansa begged to come along."

"You couldn't have brought the ward as well?" Edmure said. "Robb has nothing to do but pester me." _Not that I mind._

Catelyn's mouth settled into a thin line. "They need time apart. Theon does seem to care for Robb, but I just know that he's telling him things that he doesn't have any business knowing. Not just yet."

 _Not this again_ , Edmure thought. He brought up a deflection, and regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. "And Jon?"

She did not answer. Her eyes grew cold at the mention of the name, and Edmure felt himself shrink under her familiar glare. Catelyn could be kind, but she was terrifying in anger. Edmure's hand darted out to cling around his bedpost.

The chill passed from her eyes, but her voice rang with warning again when she spoke. "No more stories, Edmure." She turned to leave, then stopped, face suddenly softened. "I see you in him sometimes, you know. Raising Robb is a little bit like raising you all over again."

Edmure smiled to mask the remorse that had slowly begun to creep through him.

"Which is why I'd rather keep him innocent as long as I can," she said. "A path different from yours, brother. The wenching can wait."

There was truth in her words, but Edmure couldn't keep the hurt from his expression. Catelyn's face fell into a wordless apology. "He's still a boy, Edmure. I'd like him to be one for just a little longer." She furrowed her brow, but this time spoke gently. "No more stories."

She left the room, and Edmure was glad to be alone. These feelings, these thoughts, they were wrong, far worse than anything he had imagined. _A boy_ , he thought, _and not just a boy, but my own blood_. He cursed at how the notion did nothing to smother his yearning, and he wondered how the heat of his hardness was so much more pronounced than both his guilt and his shame put together. 

His hands moved to unlace his breeches, and he reached in to settle his problem. Edmure thought that it would be enough to put an end to it, but only moments later, his fingers thick and soiled with seed, he could still smell the scent of Robb's body, see the curve of his wet mouth. Edmure was soft and spent, but still he thought of how the boy might taste, how he might shudder from his touch. How he might moan with a cock stuck inside him. 

There, alone in his bedchambers, his hand smeared with shame and his head filled with sin, Edmure Tully decided at last that he was well and truly doomed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edmure was only taking his nephew under his wing, after all, the way he would a younger brother. And Robb certainly seemed to enjoy the company of those he regarded as brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [Rovardotter](archiveofourown.org/users/Rovardotter), who has helped make this chapter just about as tight and as pretty as Robb's cute little butt <3

Edmure sulked as he tore at his bread, searching for answers in the grain of the wooden table. He had chosen to break fast at the furthest end of the hall, away from the bustle of servants. Someplace he could be left to his musing, manic and scattered as it was.

 _He seduced me!_ he thought. _The boy seduced me_ , _with his stupid little mouth and his stupider questions!_ In truth, Edmure knew that the boy's concerns, and perhaps his intentions, were innocent enough, at least at first. That encounter in Edmure's chambers had passed so quickly that he almost wondered whether the boy's cock had really been rubbing against his leg after all. 

But it had only happened yesterday, and Edmure was fairly certain that he hadn't imagined it all in a dream or a haze of wine. Robb's hardness had definitely rubbed against him. Repeatedly, and quite pleasurably. It was intoxicating, knowing that this boy was filled with so much desire, so much longing for him. Oh, perhaps Robb was really thinking of his bastard brother, or the ward, but those little details never really much mattered to Edmure Tully. The real problem, he always knew, was the little complication of their blood relation. Sod Ned Stark, and sod the north. Robb was as much a Tully as any of Edmure's family.

Still, he liked the boy. And wasn't it Robb who had come to him with silly questions? It was Robb's fault, in the end. And the boy had run away, left him there to face his sister's wrath. True, it had all ended well, and Edmure was relieved that Cat had left him mostly unscathed, but it was more a matter of honor. Robb had seduced him, and Robb had fled, and this was all his fault. Edmure thought that he was entitled to draw some amusement from the boy, and he wanted to tease the little wolf until he would dance on command, nip at his fingers and trail at his heels out of desire, and Edmure, in very much the way he would play with a pet, meant to withhold his affections. Just for a little while longer.

He popped a piece of crust into his mouth, chewing with a mix of derision and guilt. He wanted to tease the boy, but Cat's words kept ringing through his ears. _I'd rather keep him innocent as long as I can_. Edmure scoffed. Too late for that now. If his sister knew of the things that kept her precious son busy, and if she knew who he had come to with his niggling curiosity… 

Well, it wouldn't end well for either one of them. Robb would be punished, but he was still Cat's son. _Ned's_ son. The laws held true for most of Westeros, and the north was no different. There were many interesting ways the wolves would deal with the man who dared to taint their heir, but the most popular involved removing Edmure's head, a part of himself that he liked very, very much. He couldn't very well be handsome if he didn't have a face.

But it was difficult to deny the boy what he wanted. Robb was pretty, oh, very pretty indeed, for a boy, and again Edmure thought back to how he had never been with a man. There was that one time in the stables when he was much younger, but that had only involved his cock and a stablehand's mouth, and surely that didn't count. He knew that he had never felt such intense want the way he felt about his nephew. Edmure rubbed his hand against his neck, tracing the line of where Lord Stark's greatsword might slice clear through on its way to the block. He thought of Robb's mouth again, and it irritated him that it made the notion of being beheaded almost _acceptable._

Edmure looked up from his plate just then, noticing a familiar loping at the far end of the hall. It was Robb, of course. Who else would be walking with such an excited gait, lolling about with that eager smile on his lips? _That fucking mouth_ , Edmure thought. _He could press it against parts of me and I would forgive anything._ He kept his eyes on Robb's lips, thinking of Cat, and Ned, and the bite of Valyrian steel. _The Others take them. There's always the Wall._

Robb's little smile grew into a fond grin as he caught sight of his uncle, and he slid happily onto the bench beside him, snatching a rasher of bacon from Edmure's plate. _I would kill men for that_ , he thought, _but I would forgive anything_ , because Robb was closing his mouth over the strip of meat, tearing at it with glinting teeth, and Edmure's appetite for food fell cleanly away, taken over by a hunger for something warmer, tastier, and certainly much messier.

The problem with Robb, apart from the tiny complication of being his nephew, was that he was quite a bit more observant than Edmure had first assumed. Robb's brows furrowed as he chewed, his eyes searching. 

"Everything all right then, Uncle?"

Edmure nodded in response, perhaps a bit too sullenly. "All right."

Robb swallowed and licked his lips, tongue collecting stray flecks of salt and fat. Again, Edmure's eyes fell on their pinkness, and again he silently begged for him to stop. He thought of the Starks, and Ice, and the Wall, and whether the boy was worth the trouble. Edmure sighed.

"Yesterday, Robb. When you came to me."

Robb nodded slowly. "We should do that again."

Edmure's eyes widened. He gaped, at a loss for words. Wasn't it only yesterday when the boy had wriggled out from under his mother's thumb? Didn't he have a problem with any of this? 

"Better this time," Robb said. "And without Mother coming to knock at the door."

 _Gods_ , _don't bring her into this. Bad enough as it is, Robb._ Edmure lowered his head. "Your mother must never know about this, Robb. Never."

Robb looked offended. "I would never tell her."

"It's not what you might tell her. It's what she might find out." Edmure raised an eyebrow. "Has she ever found you with your brothers?" Robb flushed, his confidence thawing.

Edmure nodded. "So she has."

"We've never been caught," Robb said. "I'm young, Uncle, not stupid."

"Young you are. And I would never think you stupid, sweet boy. But you should be more careful."

Robb's lips settled into a thin line, and Edmure knew something sharp was on its way out of him. _More like your mother than I thought._

"It wasn't me who forgot to bolt the door."

Edmure felt the heat spire in his chest. "I didn't bring you into my chambers expecting you to rub up against me like a little dog."

Robb bit on his lip and looked away, the half-eaten bacon forgotten in his fingers. He spoke, very softly. "But would you still want to?"

"Still want to… What?"

The boy turned to look him in the eye, his face firm and questioning. "Fuck me."

Edmure winced from the force of the words, part of him remembering that it was still capable of feeling embarrassed. "We shouldn't discuss such things here, Robb."

"You brought it up, Uncle." And now the boy was brazen. Where had all the blushing gone to? 

 _A challenge_ , Edmure thought. _I accept. I'll make you heel yet, little wolf._ He rapped his knuckles on the table. "Let me tell you something about rutting that you might not know, little lord." He beckoned with his finger. Robb cocked his head curiously and leaned in closer. 

Safe in the corner of the hall, hidden behind the thicket of Robb's curls, Edmure pressed his nose against the boy's cheek, and whispered. "It's my favorite thing in the world."

Robb shuddered, and Edmure smiled. "It's like finding a new dish that you quite like. You think about it, day and night, and won't ever be satisfied until you have more of it." He breathed in, and Robb's scent, the sweetness on his skin from a fresh bath, ran through Edmure's body. _Warm. So warm._

The hall was silent, and he wasn't sure if the servants had ceased their scurrying and retired to the kitchens, but Edmure didn't mean to stop now. "If I taste you, little Robb, I might not want to taste anything else for days. Weeks." He sent out his tongue to lap at the rim of Robb's ear, and he heard the smallest whine. _Weeks it is, then._

The boy's hand found its way to his thigh, working its way slowly upwards. Edmure tensed and persevered. "I'll fuck you the once, and I might not think about anything else. I'll fuck you each and every day that you remain in Riverrun." He reached down and placed a firm hand over Robb's, halting its journey over his leg. "I would do you a favor, nephew. When you return to Winterfell, you won't forget how it feels to have a real man inside you."

Robb tried to prise his hand out of Edmure's grasp. "There are real men in Winterfell," he said. 

Edmure chuckled. "Your brothers are boys, Robb. What would they know about pleasuring you?"

"They know," Robb muttered. Edmure could hear the frown in his voice. "He knows." 

 _Who, Robb?_  

"He won't know to care for you as well as I would," Edmure said. He leaned back to watch Robb's face, curious at how he might look in anger. "Your mother would rather you learn from me than from a boy who would just hurt you. Better your own uncle than a reaver. Or a bastard." 

Robb glowered at him. _Fiery, but pretty._ Edmure gave him an even stare. "You should listen to your uncle, Robb. It's what your mother would want."

Robb's lips curled back as he spoke through clenched teeth. "How would you know what Mother wants?" 

"I don't," Edmure said. "Perhaps we should ask her. Here she comes now."

Robb tilted away in a panic, his hand darting back into his lap. Edmure forced himself to grin in his sister's direction, thrusting his hands under the table with all the dignity of a boy caught stealing from the larder.

Catelyn stopped to speak to a maid, no doubt explaining her choices for breakfast. Her eyes studied the table as she approached. "Aren't you eating, Robb?"

"He's only picking at my leavings." Edmure pushed his food closer to the boy. "Look, Cat. He's taken such a liking to me that he's eating from my plate now." Edmure nudged Robb's thigh with his, and he grinned again as he felt the boy slide further down the bench.

"Eat up, Robb," Catelyn said. "You look like you've lost your appetite."

Robb stared down at the plate. Sitting so close, Edmure could smell something familiar about him. _Ah, there it is. Defeat._

"Yes, Robb. Good and proper meal in the morning." Edmure stretched out his arms and puffed his chest, knowing that the boy's eyes would follow. "It's how I got to be so big and strong." Robb's stare burned holes into his shirt.

Catelyn laughed and shook her head. "Your uncle is a fool, Robb, but it's true. You should listen."

Edmure flashed a brilliant smile as he rose from the bench. Robb glared, mouth twisted and impertinent, but still something about his face was vulnerable, almost pleading.

"Yes, Robb," Edmure said. "Listen to your uncle."

*******

The midday sun beat down over the castle, light rippling on the surface of the waters that ran around it. The rivers always reminded Edmure he was home. He felt strange when he was away from Riverrun, missing the sound of the waters running free, babbling and laughing as they tumbled past.

It was something Edmure found soothing, though the river-song never did anything to lull his senses. Over the whisper of the waters, he could still hear nervous footsteps padding from behind him, or catch a scent of something familiar on the breeze, hanging in the air and cutting cleanly through the smell of wet and warmth.

Edmure never had to look, but since their meeting in his bedchambers, the little lord had made a habit of nipping after him like a motherless pup. Robb didn't scurry at his heels, only following from a distance, and that made it so much more endearing. Edmure would cross the yard and feel, from one of the high arches, a pair of blue eyes boring into him. Sometimes Edmure would whip his head around, expecting to find the boy's face crumbling back into shyness and uncertainty, but there would be no one watching. Edmure considered the notion that he was going mad, and he wondered how much of it he was imagining.

But not today. He knew the sweet scent that drifted towards him, recognized the hesitation in those footsteps, and he slid into a saunter as he paced the corridor, aware that his nephew was close behind. He slowed to a stop and heard two feet scuffle against the flagstones. He grinned, but didn't turn to look.

"Come, Robb. Walk with me."

Hesitation again, but the sound of footsteps started once more, and soon Robb caught up with him. He was flushed, a bit ashamed, perhaps, from being caught. Edmure would have stopped himself from laughing, but his voice caught in his throat all the same as he glanced at the boy's chest. Robb's shirt was laced more loosely today. It was warmer, after all, but still Edmure did his best to focus on his nephew's face, his eyes avoiding the tempting patch of skin that peeked from just underneath his clothing. 

The sight of the boy brought him pause. Those eyes, and that hair; they belonged to a Tully. It did bother Edmure that he couldn't decide whether that made things better or worse. The matter of greater concern was how Robb had clearly inherited more than his mother's blood. The matter of greatest concern was Cat herself. Surely she couldn't fault him for wanting to play his role as an uncle, someone Robb could learn from. And she did say as much that morning! Robb only had to listen, and Edmure would gladly tell him everything he needed to know.

Edmure was only taking his nephew under his wing, after all, the way he would a younger brother. And Robb certainly seemed to enjoy the company of those he regarded as brothers. Above all, Edmure was a man of his word. Hadn't he made Robb a promise? To teach him? Edmure decided that this was simply a matter of education. It would be cruel to deny the boy what he was so eager to learn.

Robb's flustering faded and he found his voice at last. "How did you know it was me?"

 _How could I not?_ Edmure cleared his throat. "Walk with me."

So they did, and Edmure felt the anticipation building in Robb's body mingle with a heat that rose off him in waves. It was wicked, Edmure knew, but he made a point of walking a little too close, brushing his knuckles against Robb's with every few steps. He flinched each time, and when Edmure reached out with curious fingers to stroke at his palm, Robb finally found enough sense to complain.

"Stop that," Robb said. He stared ahead, but his mouth was wrenched into a little pout. 

Edmure chanced a glimpse of the boy's mouth. _Only if you stop doing that_.

"So have you been thinking?" Edmure asked.

"About what?"

 _You know very well what I mean_. "My offer. You came asking for lessons. I agreed to teach you."

"Is that what it was?" Robb said sullenly. "What you meant when you tortured me in front of Mother?"

Edmure grimaced. _Torture?_ "I only wanted to know how much you wanted to, Robb. I didn't mean to."

Robb said nothing, but Edmure saw his expression soften. They turned at the end of the hall and found themselves in a corner further away from prying eyes, darkened in shadow. Edmure stopped walking, as did the boy.

His hand betrayed him with its eagerness as it reached for the laces of Robb's shirt. _Cat's son_ , his mind whispered. _Your nephew_. _Teach him_. Edmure managed to stop himself from pulling the cloth away completely, and his fingers fell to teasing at the laces. Robb stared at his hand in silence.

"You're wearing your shirt differently now."

The boy flustered, eyes darting to the ground. "It looks strange. But it's too hot."

 _It looks obscene,_ Edmure thought. _But I like it._

"You look good like this." He nudged one finger through the web of drawstrings over Robb's chest. "Shouldn't keep something pretty so hidden all the time."

Robb blushed, and Edmure began to understand how much he liked to see the boy this way: reddened, shy, embarrassed. He wondered if there was ever a time he looked just as Robb did, backed into a corner, vulnerable and aching.

"Robb. Why are you so eager to learn?"

"What do you mean?"

Edmure slid his finger further down Robb's chest and pushed just a little harder. The boy bumped against the wall behind him, and his body went taut. "You know very well what I mean."

"It was Theon," Robb said. "I told you." He was squirming now, just underneath a single finger, and Edmure wondered how much the boy might squirm if he used both his hands, and his mouth, and his…

"He told me right before we left Winterfell." There was some hurt in Robb's voice. "Like he knew I'd think about it. All the way to Riverrun."

 _I like this Theon,_ Edmure thought. _We might get along_. "Did he tell you because he wanted to try it with you?"

Robb shook his head. "No. I don't know. Why?"

"I want to know which of your brothers you like to play with. It sounds to me like Theon is your favorite."

Robb blushed again. Edmure's finger had left his chest, now joining their brothers in tugging at Robb's shirt, searching through the cloth for something warm to touch.

"It's not Theon."

"Then it's Jon."

"No," Robb said. "Jon and I don't talk about these things. Jon doesn't say much." He bit at his lip, then muttered. "Not with his mouth, anyway."

Frustration flared in Edmure's belly. _Seven hells. What does he mean? Which one of them is it?_ Edmure thought the answer important. How far was Robb willing to go? Lying with a man was one thing, but lying with a brother, even one half-blooded, was another entirely. Edmure thought it might help to clear what little doubt he had left about taking the boy. 

The possibility occurred to him then that Robb only wanted to use him for his body, and his cock, to learn new games and lessons he could bring home to whichever it was of his brothers who liked to play. Edmure chewed on it, briefly, and realized he didn't very much mind being used. Not by Robb.

Rough fingers found Robb's nipple, and Edmure wasn't at all surprised at how quickly it hardened under his touch. Robb moaned, arms slack at his sides, unwilling, or perhaps unable to resist. Edmure edged in closer, pressing his body to Robb's, and he discovered that other parts of the boy had already hardened as well.

The question of Robb's playmate hadn't left him, but Edmure tried to keep his curiosity hidden all the same. "Then whoever it is must mean so much to you if you're so willing to be the girl."

Robb's body stiffened. "Not a girl," he said, and he scowled.

Edmure dropped his hands to wrap around Robb's waist, pulling him closer. The boy sighed as their hips met, his hardness straining through the front of his breeches. Edmure hissed when he felt it against his own cock, doing his damnedest to stay his own arousal.

"You may as well be," he whispered. "Have you seen your own mouth, Robb? Your eyes?" Edmure knew he shouldn't say more, but his mouth refused to follow. "Better than a girl's."

Robb shut his eyes, and he swallowed. "Uncle, please don't."

Edmure paused. _All it takes is a word, Robb. I won't hurt you._ He cocked his head. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't stop," Robb said. "Don't tease either."

 _But I want to._ Edmure ran his lips over the boy's neck. Robb shivered under him, and the taste of his skin was exquisite. Like salt, and sin.

"I'm not teasing, precious boy. Just seeing how much you want this. How much you want me."

"Want," Robb breathed. "Want you."

"You might not say that when I start to fuck you, Robb. It will hurt. I promise."

"Won't hurt me," Robb said. "Like you. Trust you."

 _You barely know me_ , Edmure thought again. "We need to be careful. You need to be loose so it won't hurt as much. I'll open you enough to take me. All of me."

Robb whimpered.

"Have you had so much as a finger inside you, Robb?"

Robb stopped in his quivering, suddenly sobered. "No."

 _He'll be so tight,_ Edmure thought, and he had to fight even harder to stifle his arousal. "Then we have plenty of work to do." Edmure nipped again at Robb's neck, savoring the salt on his wet skin. "Come and see me later. The sept."

"Why the sept?" Robb asked. His tone was harsher now, impetuous. "No. Want you now."

"Right here in the corridor, Robb?" Edmure did not deny how much the thought excited him. "No. Later. I have work to finish."

Robb bucked against him, his hands coming to life and reaching for Edmure's waist. Edmure grabbed his wrists, holding firmly enough to hinder, but not to hurt.

"Later."

Robb leaned his head back, eyes watering, wet mouth curved in frustration. "You shouldn't be so cruel, Uncle."

 _Cruel?_ Edmure thought, a little hurt. _This isn't cruel, Robb. I'm only teasing._

Edmure brought his thumb, then his lips, across the boy's cheek. Robb turned his head, but Edmure twisted out of his reach. _I don't need more reasons to like you, Robb. Keep your pretty mouth away._

Robb whined as Edmure stepped back, making to leave at last.

"The first lesson, sweet nephew, is patience."

Robb slumped against the wall, defeated yet again, his mouth creased in disappointment. Edmure wondered if the boy would ever stop begging, if he would ever fight to take what he wanted instead. Edmure was bigger than Robb anyway, and stronger, and he took solace in knowing how he would win all the same. 

He turned away and left Robb to fester. Edmure felt badly, for a moment, having to think of this as a competition, but a part of him enjoyed being a boy still. And didn't boys like to play games?

Edmure Tully walked on and his heart surged with glee. Outside the castle, the rivers laughed with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew that if the gods struck him dead, if the Stranger took him, right there and then, it would be a punishment he fully deserved. But Robb's hand was on his cock, and the gods could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest thanks once more to the lovely and talented [Rovardotter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovardotter), my partner in crime and sister in sin.

_Gods, I'm brilliant_ , Edmure thought. He smiled as he stretched his legs down past the bench. He sat alone within the seven walls of the sept, and all was silent, save for the sound of his boot tapping delightedly against the stone floor.

He knew now that Robb wanted him very, very badly. It was why he thought to invite his nephew here, the one place in all of Riverrun where the boy might think twice about acting on his urges. If Robb truly did take so much after his mother, if he held the new gods with the same reverence that she did, the sept would be the perfect place to tease him, if only for just a little longer. _He wouldn't dare_. _Not here_.

Edmure's grin grew wider as he thought of how very wrong the old maester had been about him. As a boy, Edmure had found some difficulty in naming the kings and queens of Westeros. Word of this failing reached Lord Hoster's ears, and though his father had only clucked his tongue, the disappointment still dealt a blow to Edmure's pride.

It was Catelyn who helped him along, sitting him down after dinner and boxing his ears each time she sensed that his mind was beginning to wander. Edmure thought fondly of those nights. He was angry with Cat at first for forcing him to run through the same lessons that frustrated him in the day, but in time he understood that she had only done so out of concern, sisterly affection, and most of all, her own desire to see him flourish.

 _Dimmer than a black candle_ , the maester had said of him, but Edmure knew better now. Asking Robb to the sept, and waiting here with his shirt half-undone? Edmure knew, without a doubt, that he was as clever as any of the world's most gifted tacticians, if not even brighter.

And though he had forgotten most all of his boyhood lessons, Edmure still knew the reigning Targaryens by heart: Aegon, the first of his name, with Rhaenys and Visenya, then Aenys, then Maegar, then Jaehaerys and Alysanne, then Viserys, the first of what seemed like a bloody hundred of them, and all the rest, now just names and bones to prop up the walls of a crumbling dynasty. He could still count them off within seconds. He did so every now and again, and it always brought to mind how he had never much cared about what the Targaryens were called. He was much more curious about what they did with each other.

His foot ceased in its tapping. It couldn't be _._ This thing between him and his nephew, it was nothing at all like how the dragons fought to keep their blood pure. He could fuck Robb for weeks and still they would never breed an heir. Edmure chewed on his thumb uncertainly. He silently rattled off the names of dead monarchs once more, the routine of it soothing him. Cat had taught him, and now he meant to teach Robb in turn. It was a chain of education, nothing more. Edmure was returning the favor, and that's all it was.

The door to the sept swung open behind him, and Edmure abandoned his thoughts. He leaned back onto the bench, pushing his hips out and quickly but carefully adjusting his shirt, sure to let just enough of his chest peek above the cloth.

Robb sat next to him, a little too close, Edmure noticed, so close that he could once more feel the heat pulsing from the boy's body and smell his curious perfume of sweetness and sweat. His brow was furrowed, clearly still sore from their encounter in the corridor, but Edmure did not miss the little glimmer in Robb's eyes when they passed over the bare skin of his chest.

"Your shirt," Robb said.

Edmure arched his back, pretending to stretch. "It was getting warm here. You've made me wait so long."

The boy chewed his lip and frowned. "And you've made me wait longer."

The corner of Edmure's mouth lifted into half of a grin. "Whatever do you mean, Robb?"

"You know very well what I mean." He was upset, Edmure could tell, but the way Robb's tongue swept too quickly over his lips betrayed how he truly felt. Robb's eyes still hadn't moved away from Edmure's chest, and for a moment, he felt naked under his gaze. Edmure didn't mind it at all.

"Why here?" Robb asked.

It was a fair question. Edmure knew that the sept was private enough, separate from the rest of the castle, yet still not so distant that it could be a stage for illicit activities. Edmure wanted to speak to Robb on neutral ground, knowing well enough that the boy's longing would frankly swell where it wasn't allowed. He congratulated himself yet again for thinking to arrange their little meeting.

"I thought we could have a quiet chat," Edmure said, his hands flat against the bench. The boy's mouth twisted into a pout, exactly as he had expected, and again Edmure thought of the old maester. _As I always knew: brilliant._

"I don't like your games, Uncle," Robb said softly. "I'm not a toy. Not your pet."

"This isn't a game, Robb. Didn't I promise that I would teach you? This is only a lesson in patience."

"I'm not good with patience." Something in Robb's face twitched as he said the word.

"And that's why you have to learn." Edmure smiled sweetly, taking pleasure in the boy's deepening frown.

Robb stared back at him in defiance, his eyes cold. "If you wish to fuck me, then do so."

Edmure was taken aback, despite himself. _Such words, in these walls?_ He glanced around at the silent faces of his gods, and said as much. "You shouldn't say that here, Robb."

Robb looked around him, his face wreathed in the shadow of the seven-pointed star that hung above them. "And who would hear us, Uncle? Your gods? Mine?"

And somehow all the fear and doubt that Edmure had struggled to keep at bay came rushing back. Things were different, here in the eyes of the Seven, and he lowered his head as he looked over at the Mother. His thoughts fell on the gods, and on Cat, then on the sudden presence of a hand on his leg. Edmure stiffened.

"Not here, Robb," he hissed.

"You've changed your mind then." Robb stared down at his hand, but he didn't move away.

Edmure closed his hand over Robb's, gripping to stop him, and he wondered when the feel of his skin had become so familiar. How many times had he ceased his nephew's fingers in their wandering? Robb started to strain against his grip, and when Edmure didn't give, the boy's fingers began to rub over his breeches, their touch reaching deeply through the cloth. _Gods give me strength,_ Edmure thought, already aware of a familiar sensation creeping into his hips.

"Don't, Robb," Edmure croaked, even as insistent fingers dug into his thigh. "Not here."

"You wanted me," Robb said. "Only this morning. And again in the corridor. You want me now." Robb's wrist had worked free of his grasp, and Edmure cursed himself when he knew that he would no longer move to stop him. Robb leaned closer. Too close. "I'm tired of playing your games."

He struggled to speak as he watched Robb's hand work its way up. "Stop, Robb," Edmure said. "Don't want you to. Not here." _Lies,_ his mind whispered back. _What pretty lies. Remember them when you spill into your hands tonight._

The boy's fingers traveled between his legs, and Edmure clenched his teeth. "Robb," he said hoarsely. "I told you to stop. Listen to me."

"Hurt me then, Uncle," Robb whispered. "Stop me. You're bigger, stronger. You keep saying as much."

Edmure noticed the boy's impudence, but his thoughts were elsewhere. _Can't hurt you. Never could. And the gods are watching, but your hand._ It didn't take long for Edmure's cock to come to life. He wondered just when the tables had been turned, and the boy's touch, his measured breath, his dizzying scent, all reminded Edmure that this was a defeat he just might be willing to accept.

He hissed, hoping the boy would understand how much he wanted to be freed from his breeches. He looked around the sept again, mutely begging the gods to forgive this blasphemy. _Robb's_ blasphemy. The boy's hands were skilled and deft, surprisingly so for someone he had thought so innocent. _Your brothers should know how lucky they are._

Edmure sat there, his cock hard, wriggling under the touch of a boy, his own nephew, his sister's firstborn. He knew that if the gods struck him dead, if the Stranger took him, right there and then, it would be a punishment he fully deserved. But Robb's hand was on his cock, and the gods could wait.

"Do you want me to stop?" Robb stared into his face, blue eyes gone dark. "Tell me, Uncle."

He shook his head. Edmure's eyes fell on Robb's mouth again, and he bucked into the boy's hand. Robb's touch was firm and hungry, fingers tugging and tearing into him like talons.

"Breeches," Edmure whispered.

"Not here," Robb said. "The gods are watching, Uncle."

Edmure bucked against the boy's touch again, and he cringed when he recognized the whine that pierced the silence as his own. _Coming apart in a boy's hands. How far have I fallen?_ Robb's fingers found the head of his cock, scrabbling, scratching. Edmure moaned. _Like claws. Like a little wolf._

There was the hint of a taunt in Robb's voice when he spoke. "Is that how you'll sound when you fuck me, Uncle?" When had the boy grown so brave? Edmure grit his teeth and bit back his retort.

Robb began to unlace him at last. Edmure pushed his hips forward, and he wondered how he had stumbled headlong into his own trap, wincing as Robb rubbed firmly at him, so cleverly that he knew he was close to release.

"Robb," Edmure said. "Nearly there. Can't stop." He ground into Robb's hand with his eyes squeezed shut, as if keeping the gods out of sight meant that they wouldn't see his sacrilege in turn.

"Not here," Robb said. "Not in front of Mother."

"You mean the Mother," Edmure said, still stubborn enough to speak in between stuttered gasps, still silently praying for Robb to unlace him.

"No. I mean Mother."

Edmure heard the crack of wood against stone. _The door to the sept. Footsteps. Mother. Cat._ His mind reeled as Robb's hand left him. His eyes flew open in time to see Robb whisper through a red sneer.

"I can be cruel too, Uncle."

There wasn't time to gape, or even to think, but Edmure knew at least that he had been betrayed. He did what he could to collect himself, hands fluttering at the laces that Robb had undone, counting the footsteps that rang through the sept. _Gods, he knew. He knew she was coming!_

Catelyn smiled as Robb rose to greet her. "It's good to see you here, Robb."

"We're Starks, Mother," he said, eyes now brighter, his back straightened with all of a son's obedience and respect. "Old gods, and the new."

Edmure rubbed at the back of his neck, his mind a tattered jumble of yearning, confusion, and fear. _A mirror_ , he thought. _I teased him, and he teased right back._ "What are you doing here, Cat?"

"I always come at this time. I have many things to thank the gods for." Catelyn reached out to stroke his hair. "The two of you getting along so well is just one of them."

Edmure pulled away from her touch, and his cheeks reddened with shame. Catelyn didn't notice.

She turned to Robb again. "What were you praying for, Robb?"

"Nothing really," Robb said. "I was only thanking the gods for granting us a safe journey."

 _Liar. A liar with a pretty mouth is all you are._ Edmure eyed him warily, but Robb only grinned at his mother. Catelyn beamed back, and she turned to Edmure. "And what were you praying for, little brother?"

He looked his sister in the eye, finding nothing there but affection and earnest curiosity. He turned to his nephew, fixed him with a glare, and spoke carefully.

"Patience."

*******

Edmure couldn't remember being so furious. Robb, sweet, innocent Robb, had tricked him, and done it so masterfully. _A boy_ , Edmure thought. _Just a boy, and I walked right into his trap._ Robb was only retaliating in kind, he knew, but Edmure was never one to give in to admissions of fault. He was allowed to tease his nephew as much as he liked. Robb was not ever supposed to tease him back.

The sun was long gone, but still Edmure clung to his humiliation. He paused in his pacing as the other problem from the sept returned to haunt him: the way Cat had so fondly touched his hair, seeming to thank him for taking such good care of her beloved firstborn. Edmure wilted. Again he reminded himself that this was simply about teaching Robb. Better his uncle than a pair of inexperienced fools, after all, and at the end of things, Edmure was actually doing his nephew a favor.

He thought of the possible consequences. What if his brothers fucked him so roughly that Robb stumbled like a drunk around Winterfell? What would the Starks think, and what would they do, when they saw their precious heir hobbling in pain from the overexcited and unlearned rutting of a vicious whoreson of a reaver, or a green bastard? Heads would roll. This was about protection now, about protecting Robb from terrible, terrible eventualities, and the boy should be thanking _him_. Gods, even Theon and that other boy should be so happy to keep their heads. Edmure was helping them all.

But this was a matter of a game unfairly played between two men. Or boys, as Edmure sullenly admitted. Robb had won the last round. It wasn't fair. Still he knew that what truly mattered was the question of his arousal, how Robb knew his mother's movements and timed it so exceptionally... And how Edmure had come so dangerously close to spilling.

Had Robb always been so cunning? In their short time together, he had never thought his nephew dull, but now it was clear that Robb was far slyer than Edmure had given him credit for. The shift in his character was shocking, though not nearly as much as Robb's willingness to fondle him in a sacred place. Again the thought of being so wanted made Edmure shiver, but his thoughts lingered on how _different_ Robb had seemed. He was imperious, commanding, unwilling to yield until he had what he wanted. Robb had seemed somehow older in that moment, very much like the lord he would someday become. Like a young king.

How was it fair for Robb to wield authority over him, his uncle? Loath as he was to admit it, Edmure was aware that he was coddled, and yes, certainly spoiled growing up, and it annoyed him that even without speaking, Robb had so painfully reminded him that he really hadn't grown up at all. Edmure was still just a boy, playing games in his father's castle. It drove him mad.

 _Little brat_ , he thought. Thrumming with anger, Edmure left his bedchambers and crossed the hall, counting the doors until he reached Robb's quarters. He breathed deeply, prepared to berate the boy lord, and trying to keep away the loveliest idea of comforting him if he perchance succeeded in making Robb cry. He pushed on the door, surprised to find it unbolted, and stepped into the darkness of his nephew's bedchambers.

It was quiet. No fire roared in the hearth, as was Robb's preference. Riverrun was cooler in the evening, but still Robb's northern blood resisted. Edmure crossed the vestibule, cursing as he stubbed his toe on a table leg, and a little of his fury left him when he heard snoring. _How am I meant to yell at him when he's asleep?_

Edmure approached the bed and threw back the curtains. The boy had fallen asleep wearing just his breeches, his shirt off, limbs splayed over the covers. Edmure swallowed as he watched the rise and fall of Robb's chest, feeling his rage ebb as he realized that whatever he had imagined under the boy's clothing was so much sweeter in the flesh. Long hours in the yard had done him a lot of good, and the hard lines of his naked torso threatened to twist the anger in Edmure's blood into something far more pleasant. He kneeled on the bed, suddenly unsure. Robb moaned softly as the mattress dipped.

"Robb," Edmure whispered.

The boy snored.

"Robb. Gods, Robb, wake up. I'm angry. Robb."

The boy moaned again and turned to the sound of Edmure's voice. His snoring stopped and he opened his eyes, silvery blue in the light of the moon.

"Robb."

The color went away as Robb closed his eyes again, as if in dismissal. Edmure felt annoyance pinch in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak just as Robb did.

"Have you come for me to finish you off, Uncle?"

Anger began to seep back into Edmure's blood. Robb's eyes were still closed. A grin crept over his infuriating mouth, and he whispered.

"Come see me later in the sept."

Edmure moved quickly and straddled Robb's body, the rush of irritation taking over his promises of kindness. Robb's hands lifted to shove him off, but Edmure's were faster in locking around his wrists and pinning him firmly against the bed. The smugness on Robb's face dropped away, and still muzzy from sleep, the boy lord could do little but protest and struggle feebly under Edmure's weight.

Robb lowered his head, but Edmure could see the mockery behind his eyes. "Angry now, Uncle?"

"What you did to me in the sept was cruel," Edmure hissed. "You knew I wanted to. You tricked me."

Edmure resisted a moan as Robb shifted underneath him, pressing up against his body in a way that was pleasurable, and, he believed, clearly intentional. _Stop it. Let me be angry._

"I was only returning the favor, Uncle. I'm just a boy. I like games." Robb lifted his head from the mattress. "And I know you do as well."

"We could have been caught," Edmure said. "What were you thinking?"

"Don't act so coy, Uncle. What were _you_ thinking when you asked me to the sept? You're only angry that you lost."

The boy was right, gods damn him, but Edmure would never admit to defeat. Oh, he nearly spilled into Robb's fingers, that much was true, but who could have resisted in his position?

"Not fair," was all Edmure could mutter.

Robb raised his eyebrows. "And is it fair that you've been pulling me along like a toy on a string?"

It angered Edmure how the boy was once again entirely correct. He gaped as he searched for an answer, and the only one that came was a pitiful echo. "Not fair."

Robb smiled from underneath him, and Edmure resisted when he felt the boy's body unfolding, softening, even as other parts of him began to harden. "The only way to make this fair is to give me what you promised."

Edmure stared at him in silence. Robb blinked slowly and bucked up against him once more.

"All you have to do," Robb whispered, "is fuck me on this bed. Hard enough that I will scream." Robb lifted his head further, his mouth now just a short and aching distance from Edmure's. "I'll scream so loud that Mother will hear, and you'll have to decide whether to keep fucking me, or to put your cock where it will keep me quiet."

Edmure shivered. _Gods, he knows._

Robb pushed up against him another time, and Edmure now knew for certain that the boy was hard. Robb moaned softly as he writhed, and Edmure knew he should do something, anything to quieten him, to prove that he was still in control as the boy's uncle, or his brother, or whatever it was that the little lord saw him as now. Robb had worked his way out yet again from under his grasp, and Edmure backed slowly away as he rose from the covers and closed in.

Robb's lips trailed against Edmure's cheek as he approached, and he stopped to whisper into his ear. "Which end of me do you really want to claim, sweet Uncle? I've never been taken from behind. You've said as much. I'll be very, very tight." The warm, wet edge of Robb's tongue flicked against his ear, and Edmure whimpered as it worked its way down to his neck.

"But my mouth, Uncle," Robb said, and Edmure could feel every word that spilled from him, the boy's lips forming the shapes and sounds even as they brushed softly, achingly against his skin. "I know you've been staring. I know you've been thinking about how it might feel to push against my tongue. My mouth. I'll tell you what he says."

 _Who?_ Edmure thought, just as he realized that for once, he didn't truly care. Robb's mouth was on his neck, teeth grazing his throat, and his hand had found its way to cupping his hardness, and that's all that mattered.

"He says nothing," Robb said, "because all he can do is scream when I take him whole. All of him, past my lips, and down my throat. It's a very pretty sound he makes when I swallow him. He cries out and begs for me to stop. Like a man in pain." Robb hissed sharply as he breathed in, as if he was taking in Edmure's scent, to find his weakness and his fear. "Like a man dying."

Robb's fingers closed harshly around his cock. "Would you scream for me, Uncle?"

Edmure could think of nothing better in that moment than shoving himself fully into Robb's mouth, but his pride took over as it always did. He wanted Robb to devour him, wanted the boy to make good on his promise to consume him whole, but this wasn't how he wanted it. It was Edmure's role to take, and to teach. His cock screamed for release, begging him to give in to the boy lord, but Edmure Tully did not like to lose, especially not at his own game. He had his way of doing things, and his methods would not be denied.

"No."

He felt Robb's body stiffen in surprise, but it was too late. Robb yelped as Edmure grabbed him and spun him about like a doll. He hoisted the boy up and dragged him back, locking his arms with his own. Edmure's chest pressed against the boy's wet back, and his thighs closed around his sides like iron grips, his cock pushing against Robb's bottom.

They sat there for a moment. Robb panted, and Edmure sat behind him, thinking of how he very much liked to rut like this; to fuck from behind. It worked well for the homelier wenches, so he wouldn't have to look at their faces as he thrust. He knew that he would quite like to see Robb's face as he took a cock inside him for the first time, but Edmure felt safer here, away from his mouth, the one thing he knew was sure to make him crumble. He wouldn't see his pretty mouth twist and scream as he filled him, but it would have to do.

Robb's breathing was more even now, and Edmure couldn't see his face, but he could smell his defeat. He rested his head in the crook of Robb's shoulder, his nose pressed against the boy's cheek. He nipped roughly at Robb's ear and felt him tremble.

"Not fair," Robb whispered.

"But you like to play games." Edmure ground once against his backside, and Robb shivered. "This is what you wanted." He ran his tongue up against the edge of Robb's jaw, savoring the now-familiar flavor of him. Sweat, salt, sin.

"No more teasing," Robb said, and the brazen confidence was gone yet again, replaced by the begging, blushing boy lord Edmure had come to know and love. "Stop. Just fuck me."

Edmure bit gently into the soft flesh at the base of Robb's neck. The boy cried out and writhed under his touch, pushing back against him. Edmure began to suck at his skin, intent on leaving his mark. Robb strained to twist his head around.

"Want to taste you."

 _And what I wouldn't give to let you. But that would be the end of me, and I want this to last._ Edmure's mouth sucked noisily as it left Robb's neck. "My game, Robb. My terms."

Robb whined pitifully. Edmure pushed his cock against the crack of the boy's bottom. His hands moved over Robb's wet body, etching upward through the slick sweat of his belly, searching for his chest. Robb moaned as rough fingers swirled over his nipples.

"Is this how he touches you?" Edmure asked. Robb shook his head slowly. Edmure didn't have to look to know that the boy was burning, face as red as a pomegranate. Edmure moved his mouth over the spot on Robb's neck, already lightly bruised, and kissed softly at the skin there. Robb flinched.

"Is this where he kisses you?" Robb's hair tossed as he shook his head again. Edmure's fingers paused in their swirling, and they pinched. The boy squealed.

"Then tell me how he pleasures you." Edmure rocked into him, then reached up and tugged on his hair gently. "Tell me."

Robb turned his head just enough that Edmure could hear him snuffle, see him gasping for breath, his eyes tearing in frustration.

"He gives me what I want," Robb whispered, his voice choked. "He lets me do what I want. Everything."

"In Winterfell, perhaps. But this is Riverrun, little lord. You play by my rules."

Robb thrashed. Edmure tightened his grip, just enough to restrain him, and the boy groaned, then slackened in surrender. "Words," Robb whispered. "Only words. You promised, Uncle." He leaned in, and every part of Robb's back, the searing furnace of his skin, was now pressed up against Edmure.

"Show me."

Edmure thought he was safer here, where he could barely see the boy, but the littlest glimpse of his mouth, and the tiny, pleading wail in his voice gave him cause to give in at last. His hand fell away from Robb's hair, and Edmure's mouth moved down to press softly over the bruise on his neck. Robb seemed to take the tenderness as agreement, and his body went slack. He stopped struggling and leaned further into Edmure's chest, nudging against his cock. _Like you. Trust you._

"Please, Uncle. Now."

"Not yet," Edmure whispered. "I need you to soften. Don't want to hurt you."

Robb nodded slowly, moaning as Edmure's hands traveled back down to stroke at the front of his breeches. Robb turned his head, mouth searching, and Edmure gently moved his own face away. "Later." The boy's mouth lunged at empty air, and he whined again.

Edmure's hands worked awkwardly at Robb's breeches. He hadn't considered this little complication. It had always been a skirt that he could push up or tear off with ease. This required more delicate fingers, and patience that he didn't have. _My first time. Gods, my first time with a boy, and I can't even undress him._

"Off. Now."

He watched as Robb's fingers flew into action, working deftly but desperately at unlacing himself. Edmure marveled at how quickly his nephew was willing to come undone for him. The laces fell away and Edmure's hands plunged down past Robb's smallclothes. Robb hissed at his touch, the sound mounting into a groan as Edmure pulled on his cock, freeing it from the cloth.

Robb was hard, and very wet. Edmure thought of how familiar the boy's cock felt in his hand. He stared down as he stroked, gazing at the hair under Robb's belly, fascinated at how well it matched his own. _Like looking into a mirror. Like touching myself. This can't be wrong. Just can't be._

The boy whimpered as he pulled, bucking gently, almost politely, Edmure thought, into his hand. Edmure rocked against him, matching the rhythm of his strokes, and he didn't resist when Robb stretched an arm out behind him, feeling for something to touch, something to hold. Robb's hand found Edmure's, fingers winding tightly through his, clasping desperately.

Edmure chuckled softly. "I need that hand."

"He always lets me," Robb whispered.

Something fluttered in Edmure's chest. He said nothing and squeezed the boy's hand in return.

He set his attention back to the glorious task of milking Robb's slick cock with tight, firm strokes. Robb shuddered each time Edmure's fist drew up and away from his belly. He wondered if they were so alike after all, if even their most sensitive places were similar. Edmure knew he could lose nothing for trying, and his thumb found the slit of Robb's cock. He stroked along it, then pushed. Robb's breathing slowed, then stopped. His body stiffened.

"Uncle, stop."

Edmure didn't answer, and his thumb pushed again.

"Not there," Robb begged.

 _I like it there._ A bead of something wet, warm and slick leaked out, and Edmure smoothed it over the head of Robb's cock. _And so do you._

"No," Robb yelped. A hand shot down to stop him, but Edmure was stronger by far. "Gods, Uncle, please, not there..."

Edmure bit into his shoulder. Robb groaned and jerked violently back into him. He looked down to watch as the boy came in stripes over the covers, his seed glistening in the moonlight. Edmure slid his finger gently over the tip of Robb's cock when he finished, thrilling in each whine and every spasm he could coax out of him with the slightest touch. Robb muttered and moaned imploringly, and for once, Edmure relented. The boy sighed and collapsed into Edmure's chest.

"You didn't stop," Robb breathed.

"Didn't want to," Edmure said. "You liked it so much."

Edmure felt the boy's body shake as he laughed, then faintly panicked as Robb twisted around to face him. He couldn't contain his surprise at how quickly the boy had recovered. Robb was spent, but still hard, and Edmure wondered again at how familiar his cock looked. How familiar _everything_ looked.

Robb shuffled closer to sit on his lap, trapping him against the headboard. The boy's bared bottom pressed temptingly into his thighs, but Edmure was also concerned by how he was now in such close contact with Robb's entire body. He had only expected to become acquainted with Robb's back, and Edmure did his best not to let his eyes widen as they wandered over the very attractive expanse of the boy's front. He bit at his lip as he noticed how every muscle was even tauter, harder, and sleeker now that Robb's body was so close.

"What comes next?" Robb asked. A fine line of sweat trailed down his throat as he spoke. Edmure swallowed.

"We wait for a while," he struggled to say. "And when you're ready, we'll try to loosen you."

Robb blinked, his mouth upturned with curiosity. "What do we do until then?" His eyes darted down to Edmure's crotch. "Oh."

"No," Edmure said. "Don't..."

Robb's lips pressed over Edmure's, swallowing his protest. Thought, conscience, all those bothersome fiends that pestered Edmure through his days disappeared all at once, and he felt nothing but the softness of Robb's tongue, the wet heat of his mouth, _his perfect mouth_. _Better than a girl's._ Edmure had never before swooned in his entire life, but he decided that this was a fine time to start.

Soft, wet noises trickled away from them as they kissed, and Edmure shivered at his nephew's unusual talent. _I knew it, gods, I knew_. Everything he imagined, everything he had pictured from that first night in the Great Hall was like ashes compared to this, to breathing Robb's air, tasting him, drinking in everything, all of him. He wanted to pull away, to tell Robb that his brothers were so lucky, so very, very lucky to have him, whether it was Theon, or Jon, or both, but that meant taking time away from exploring him. He kept silent and let his tongue speak for itself.

Fingers threaded gently through his hair, and Edmure pushed against them, knowing that he was melting like snow into, of all things, a boy's hands. He wondered where Robb's other hand might be, and the answer came in a firm stroke against the front of his breeches. Edmure rocked into the touch, whimpering and waiting for the fingers to begin unlacing him.

They never did. Robb's hand was hungry, and terrifyingly skillful, stroking up and down the outline that Edmure's hardness made against the cloth, fingers rubbing at where the head would be, and somehow clever enough to find the seam of him, even through his breeches. He moaned into his nephew's mouth as he rocked, his hands gripping possessively around his bottom. _Not Jon's. Not Theon's. Mine._

He thrilled with the anticipation of taking Robb, entering him, and thrusting his cock over and over, in and out of his nephew's slicked entrance. _For weeks_. He took the skill of the fingers on his cock and the tongue in his mouth as an omen of good things to come. Edmure felt a warmth tickle in his belly as he counted off the many pleasures he could expect.

What he did not expect was to shudder, groan, and come spurting right into his smallclothes.

Edmure's body went stiff. Still Robb's hand stroked up against him, even as he felt a wet warmth begin to spread through his clothing. The heat was back in his skin now, no longer the blister of anger, or lust, but sheer embarrassment.

 _Greener than him_ , Edmure thought, horrified. _He never unlaced me. I came in my breeches. My breeches. Gods, if Marq knew. If anyone knew_. But Robb didn't mock him, only licking at the inside of his mouth, tongue still searching, insistent. Edmure was the first to break away, and the boy whined softly, mouth snapping after his own. _Like a wolf,_ he thought. _Hungry, and mad for flesh. A Stark after all._

Edmure rose from the bed in a hurry, his shirt damp with Robb's sweat, his breeches filled with his own seed, and he truly had never felt so embarrassed as in that moment. Robb sent fingers to tug at his shirt, and Edmure pulled away with a murmured apology. The boy sat on his bed and stared with his mouth half-open, his face wet, worried, confused.

He shut Robb's door gently, sure to make little noise, and headed for his own chambers. He stalked down the hall, embarrassment now mingling with anger at his own stupidity, his humiliating performance. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. He was the teacher. He was meant to show Robb what it was like to fuck — or in this case, to be fucked — like a man. He counted the chambers he passed as he crossed the hall for the second time that night, grimacing at the dampness in his smallclothes. It was like wetting himself, he realized, only worse. _Gods, what does Robb think of me now, so weak that I come in my breeches?_

He muttered to himself as he walked, thinking of how he could possibly redeem himself, and more importantly, how desperately he needed a change of clothing. Somewhere in the hall behind him, a door creaked open. Edmure Tully ran.


End file.
